


Snapshots

by Jenetica



Series: The Heisenberg Anthology [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Menstrual Sex, Schmoop, Shower Sex, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snapshots into Stiles' and Lydia's lives following the events of The Heisenberg Anthology. Or, to put it more simply, "here's all the stuff that didn't fit into my series that belonged there, so I'm tacking it onto the end because you guys deserve to see it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! So I decided to make all of the 'snapshots' into one fic, where each snapshot is a chapter. It made more sense than making a series of one-shots to the same effect.
> 
> This first chapter was the most requested, and I really wanted to write it. So here you are!
> 
> Un-beta'd.

Lydia pursed her lips in her rearview mirror, checking to make sure everything had stayed in place during the drive to school.  
  
“We don't have to do this,” Stiles said from the passenger seat. “I mean, it's not really important.” But his voice dripped with unhappiness, even though he was trying to hide it, and Lydia knew that her decision was the right one.  
  
“Of course we do. Don't be stupid.”  
  
Stiles beamed at her. “Okay. On three?”  
  
Lydia took a deep breath. “One. Two.... Three.” They opened their car doors and stepped out of Lydia's car simultaneously, shouldering their respective bags. They rounded the front of the car, facing each other.  
  
“You're sure?” Stiles asked, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. “I fully understand if you want to wai--”  
  
Lydia scooped a hand behind his head and pulled him down to place a long, confident kiss on his lips. Stiles pulled back blinking rapidly, an unmistakable smile fluttering along the edge of his lips.  
  
“Have I convinced you?” Lydia asked, holding out her hand expectantly. Stiles threaded his fingers between hers wordlessly.  
  
And together, hands linked, Stiles' lips pink with Lydia's lipgloss, they strode across the high school parking lot, ready to conquer the world.  
  
The world, though, didn't seem particularly interested in getting conquered.  “They're finally together?” Lydia heard one girl whisper. Another said, “I told you so!”  
  
“Okay,” Lydia said to Stiles through a false smile, “are you weirded out? I'm weirded out.”  
  
“Yep!” Stiles replied cheerily, squeezing the blood out of her hand. They reached Lydia's locker and he swiveled so he could rest his back against the metal. “What the fuck?” he whispered urgently. “I thought there would be, you know.”  
  
“Something?” Lydia finished for him, opening her locker to keep up appearances. “Yeah.”  
  
“Well, let's just ride it out,” Stiles suggested. “And if we get buckets of pig's blood poured on us, we'll know why.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Lydia said dubiously. “I have to head to class. See you in English?”  
  
Stiles moved to nod, but then he grinned mischievously instead. “Whaddya say we give ’em a little bit of a show, just for shits and giggles?”  
  
Lydia bit her lip, smiling. “What kind of a show?”  
  
“I'll see you at lunch, babe,” Stiles said loudly, winking at her quickly. Lydia cottoned on immediately.  
  
“I'll count down the hours,” she replied equally loudly, playing with the front of his open plaid. “I'll miss you, sweetie.”  
  
“Kiss to tide me over?” Stiles requested, leaning in dramatically. Lydia latched her hands around his neck and kissed him firmly, leaning into the arch of his spine. After a moment, though, Lydia felt the still-new tingle of 'oh, this is what love is like' and the kiss softened, deepening into an embrace. When Stiles pulled back, they were both smiling goofily at each other. Stiles' mouth was a mess of lipgloss. Lydia couldn't care less.  
  
“See you at lunch,” she said, the affection in her voice completely genuine.  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles said blankly. “Love you.”  
  
Lydia beamed at him. “Love you, too.”

* * *

  
  
Allison cornered her between second and third period. “Congratulations on finally getting your life in order.”  
  
“What?” Lydia asked, crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Stiles, Lydia,” Allison replied rolling her eyes. “What did you think I meant?”  
  
Lydia had been getting this all day, and she was confused to the point of frustration. “How did everyone know?!”  
  
Allison smiled at her patiently, making Lydia feel instantly guilty for snapping at her friend. “Do you want the timeline, as the rest of the school saw it? Because I don't think you realize how transparent you've been.”  
  
“Lay it on me,” Lydia sighed.  
  
“I think it started a few weeks ago, when Stiles' oral fixation got really bad. Like, worse than ever. Scott complained about it, and I noticed that you seemed different. But then you two disappeared into Finstock's office that one day, which, by the way, wasn't nearly as inconspicuous as you seemed to think it was. Then Stiles just, like calmed down. Scott was worried that Stiles had gotten into drugs but he couldn't smell anything off in his chemistry, or whatever. I'm not actually sure how that works, but Scott seemed pretty confident.  
  
“I'm not even going to talk about how worried we were when both of you disappeared off the edge of the world that one weekend. Scott didn't talk to me about it until Saturday night, and we pieced it together from there. Congrats, by the way. A whole weekend? I'm impressed.”  
  
“Thanks,” Lydia mumbled, blushing furiously. “God, I can't believe we were that obvious.”  
  
“Mmhm,” Allison said, looking like she was enjoying herself. “Then you guys had that big fight two days ago which, again, obvious. I think that's when the rest of the school figured it out. Yesterday was awful, I'll tell you what. Glad you missed. Honestly, I think people are more surprised Stiles forgave you than anything else.”  
  
“Me too,” Lydia confessed, chest heavy with shame. “I was despicable to him. He should hate me.”  
  
“That's not how love works,” Allison said, shrugging. “I tried to hate Scott for the longest time, but when you really love someone, there's no way for you to hate them. Not really.”  
  
“When did you get so wise?” Lydia demanded, mock-pouting. “I should start calling you Yoda.”  
  
Allison hugged her. “I've just dealt with a lot-- like a _lot_ \-- of relationship drama recently. No big. I have to go to chem. See you later! Oh, and the sci-fi references? Dead giveaway!”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bye!” Lydia said, turning to head to English. She sat next to Stiles, who was texting someone.  
  
“Everyone is congratulating me,” he said, putting his phone away. “Like, everyone. You'd think I won a marathon, or something.”  
  
“Apparently our relationship is old news,” Lydia replied, locking her fingers into his and bringing the back of his hand to kiss it. Stiles blushed, and it was the cutest thing Lydia had seen in a long time. “In completely unrelated news, we were obvious as hell about sexing each other all this time.”  
  
“I'm me,” Stiles said unrepentantly. “If you wanted subtlety, you should have dated, I dunno, Danny. I bet Danny's subtle.”  
  
“Shut up, Stiles,” Lydia said pleasantly. “Or I won't show you what I got from the shop last weekend.” And judging from the way Stiles jerked in his seat, he knew _exactly_ which shop she meant.  
  
“Who's Danny?” Stiles asked, feigning innocence. “I don't know anyone by that name.”  
  
“Good boy,” Lydia praised. “I love you." And yeah, she'd said it a lot lately, but it felt so good, too good to keep it inside. It seemed so foolish, now, that she had spent weeks and weeks fretting over something that she could express so easily, in three little words. She said it again, just because she could. "I love you."  
  
Stiles grinned and kissed the back of her hand, a mirror of what she'd done before. "I love you, too. Twice, just to even the playing field."  
  
"You'll love me twice?" Lydia purred. "I think I'll have to see it to believe it."  
  
Stiles' eyes darkened. "Oh, I'll show you--"  
  
"Guys, can you please not," a girl asked from two rows over. "I mean, you're cute together and all, but there's only so much I can take."  
  
Lydia and Stiles ripped apart, both of them turning dark red. "Sorry," Stiles said.  
  
When school ended and not one single person had given Lydia the stink eye, she admitted defeat. She'd misjudged the population of BHHS or, rather, the population of BHHS had failed to misjudge her. Either way, she spent weeks worrying that her feelings for Stiles would conflict with her impeccable social status. He was a chink in her armor.  
  
But, looking at the way the school had accepted her so readily, maybe she could handle a chink or two.  
  
Or, maybe (just maybe), she didn't need armor after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [Adihsar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Adihsar/pseuds/Adihsar) for leaving me beautiful essays of comments every time I post something. She requested seeing wall sex, not knowing that I was already half-done writing this snapshot, and the irony is too beautiful to ignore. So this is for you, lovely! Hope you like it!
> 
> Along a similar vein, if there is a scene you really wanted to see and I haven't written it yet or a kink you want our intrepid protagonists to explore, send me a request! (In other words, here's your chance to demand Stydia of me and I'll totally do it, as long as it can be written in a short one-shot.)
> 
> Un-beta'd.

Lydia smoothed lotion over her shoulders, working the moisture into her skin. She always felt tight getting out of the shower, like the water had caused her skin to shrink into her bones a little. Or maybe that was the nerves. And Lydia knew she shouldn't be nervous, but no amount of rationalization could stop the fluttery feeling in her stomach.  
  
The truth was that she and Stiles hadn't really done anything since they'd confessed their feelings at each other. And that was fine, really; Lydia loved curling into the hollow of Stiles' side, eating curly fries at the local diner or watching the latest movie at the drive-in. She loved it a lot. It was nice to feel young and in love. With the whole supernatural apocalypse looming over their shoulders, no one in the pack got to feel like a teenager all that often. The weight of constantly worrying about the next Big Bad kind of took away from the simple joy of making it a week without a breakout. And, let Lydia tell you, the stress of said weight pretty much ensured that breakouts were as common as houseflies. But that was beside the point.  
  
Tonight, Stiles was coming over. Lydia's parents were gone (as usual, but now was not the time to be bitter, Martin, come on) and Stiles was coming over, and Lydia planned to take advantage of that opportunity. So here she was, primping and tweezing and exfoliating, making sure that she looked her absolute best. She knew that, logically, Stiles wouldn't care if she decided to take on No Shave November or neglect her eyebrows: he loved her, and that meant he would take her at her worst. Which is why he deserved her best.  
  
When Stiles rang the doorbell, less than an hour later, Lydia carefully donned her favorite black lingerie, which Stiles had yet to see, and a satin robe. She opened the door and he was on his phone, shoulders tense.  
  
"I know, I know," he said, sounding frustrated. His eyes were covered with one hand. "But Scott, I've helped you study every night this week. You'll be fine. I know it. Okay?"  
  
Lydia bit back her grin. Here she was, standing in her finest sexy-wear, and he hadn't even noticed. How very _Stiles_ , the adorable weirdo. Stiles slid his hand down his face, finally looking up at his girlfriend.  
  
"Ho-ly," he breathed, freezing in place. "Scott, man, I gotta go." He hung up without waiting for another word. "Hi." His voice cracked and he winced.  
  
Lydia smirked at him. "Hi yourself. Would you like to come inside?" Her smile deepened, catching the innuendo only after she'd already said the words.  
  
Stiles' eyes seemed glued to the swell of her breasts. "I think I would, yeah," he replied, voice hoarse. He walked in stiltedly, leaning against the door once it was closed.  
  
"How was your day?" Lydia asked, undoing the tie of her robe. She was purposefully porn-tastic, letting the robe slip down her shoulders to pool on the floor. She loved the idea that she was being sexy for Stiles, that she was so blatantly seducing him and he would still respect her in the morning. How inspiring was that?  
  
"God, I am so in love with you," Stiles informed her breasts seriously. Lydia laughed, moving into his personal space.  
  
"Feeling's mutual," she told him, eyes sparkling. When he finally looked into her eyes, his face split into an easy, beautiful grin.  
  
"Scott's spazzing over the ecology exam tomorrow. He's pissed that I'm not quizzing him on climax communities right now. I calmly informed him that I needed time for my own climax community. He stopped bugging me after that. How was your day?" His arms wound around her waist, playing with the lace of her bodice. Lydia looped her arms around his neck in turn, combing her fingers through his hair.  
  
"Boring. You'd think that college-level astrophysics would offer a little more insight into the possibility of anti-protons in a thermonuclear fission reaction, but nope. Shame."  
  
Stiles's hands tightened, inhaling. "You are so sexy, my God. That should not feel like dirty talk."  
  
Lydia leaned into his body, pressing him up against the door. Even through the denim, she could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her belly. It caused a wave of heat to rush down to her panties, soaking them instantly. "I can walk you through the experiment, if you'd like," she offered darkly.  
  
Stiles groaned and stooped to kiss her, hands lifting under her ass so he could grind into her. Lydia gasped into the kiss and broke away, yanking his jacket off. "Naked. Now."  
  
Together, they got him naked with only a few pitstops to kiss and to hastily roll on a condom. Stiles' hands lingered over the bow holding her bodice into place. "God, I don't know if I'd rather see you naked, or keep you in this." Then, a second later, he snorted at himself. "Who am I kidding? That's not even a question."  
  
A second later, the bodice and underwear were gone. "See?" he said, pressing a soft kiss to her clavicle. "Perfect." Lydia wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself, but it didn't matter. She reached up and bit into his lower lip, tugging it mercilessly.  
  
"I want you to fuck me into this wall. Can you do that?" she asked him, resting against the wall in question. Stiles hissed through his teeth and leapt at her, hands groping at her hips until she wound her legs around his waist. The movement opened her core to the hot line of his dick and they both moaned. Stiles shifted, causing his cock to rub at Lydia's clit. She thought she might cry.  
  
He shifted again, freeing one of his hands to grasp himself. He teasingly dragged his cocked over her clit again. "You ready?"  
  
"Yes," Lydia breathed, repeating the word when Stiles slid inside her fluidly. "Fuck. I love you."  
  
Stiles' breath rattled out of him. "I don't think I even have the words right now, Heisenberg." And that said everything anyway, didn't it? Lydia rolled her hips, feeling warm inside and out.  
  
"Then let your actions do the talking," she suggested. And, because he was smart and wonderful like that, Stiles did as he was told.  
  
Wall sex was different from sex in which gravity wasn't a factor, and Lydia meant that in the best of ways. Stiles shoved up into her and her weight forced his pubic bone to grind against her clit, and her orgasm grew quickly.  
  
"Fuck, Stiles," Lydia whispered, clutching at the skin between his shoulders. "I'm close."  
  
Stiles gasped and suddenly they were falling. Lydia shrieked, landing in Stiles' lap, and Stiles thunked his head hard against the hardwood of the floor, swearing under his breath. "What happened?" Lydia asked, rushing to feel the back of his head for blood.  
  
This put her breasts right at Stiles' face, and he whimpered pathetically. "You're too hot," he mumbled into her skin. "How'm I supposed to handle that?"  
  
Lydia, confident that he didn't suffer an injury, leaned back incredulously. "Wait, you…?"  
  
"Shut up," he muttered, flushing dark red. "You know, it's all great when Harlequin romances talk about weak knees, but it's not that great, let me tell you."  
  
Lydia bit her lip, but to no avail. The laughter came pouring out of her, loud and delighted. "I weaken your knees?"  
  
Stiles stared at her blankly. "You weaken every part of me, Lydia." Her face fell, confused, and he rushed to continue. "But you strengthen me, too. Just not, you know, in the physical way. Obviously. And wow, that is one hundred and ten percent emasculating. And corny. I'm sorry."  
  
Lydia smiled, slow and brilliant. "Never apologize. I love you."  
  
Stiles tilted his head, hands resting on her thighs. "We say that a lot, huh?"  
  
"We must really mean it," she said, leaning down to kiss him. Stiles' tongue worked its way into her mouth, coaxing her to open up to him. Lydia fell to her elbows, stretching her torso out until she bumped against his still rock-hard cock. They broke apart, breathing into each other's space.  
  
"Sex against the bottom of the wall still counts, right?" Stiles asked her. Lydia paused while that sank in and then they were a flurry of action, twisting until Stiles' back was pressed against the wall and Lydia was leaned back against his raised thighs.  
  
Lydia lifted up and sank onto him. "What do you think?"  
  
Stiles grinned at her, breathless. "Fuck yeah."  
  


* * *

  
Later, Lydia poked at the bruises on her knees. "I blame you," she told Stiles, who was making stir fry in the kitchen because hell yes, Lydia was dating a boy who could actually _cook_.  
  
"I hear if you whine about it, it makes the bruises just _disappear_ ," Stiles retorted sarcastically, spinning to grab teriyaki sauce from the fridge. Lydia giggled, kicking her legs from where she was perched on the island.  
  
"Okay," she said happily. She screwed up her face to look as pitiful as possible. "Owww, Stiles, I hurt, come kiss and make better."  
  
Stiles carefully lowered the flame, then stalked over to Lydia, kissing her forcefully. "Okay?"  
  
And it sounded ridiculous, but actually, yeah, she did feel better. "Yeah," Lydia said, smiling at him shyly. "Sorry I fucked you so hard you fell over."  
  
Stiles shook his head, too amused to be embarrassed anymore. "I don't know what you're talking about. Collapsing is a well-crafted part of my lovemaking technique."  
  
That stuck in Lydia's throat and, judging from the way Stiles' eyes widened, he realized it, too. "We made love," Lydia whispered, biting at her lips to keep from beaming. "That's the thing we just did."  
  
Stiles tugged her to the edge of the island and wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could. "Yeah, it is. We did."  
  
The sensation racing through Lydia's body had nothing to do with sex. It had nothing to do with attraction. It was hot, deep, and raw, yet it soothed like a balm, like the lotion she'd so carefully slicked over her skin just hours before.  
  
They stayed like that, tangled in each other and their love, until the stir fry burnt. Even then, they simply threw away the mess and moved to the couch, where they spent the rest of the night being silly and stupid and teenagers and happy. And, to be honest, Lydia felt stupid for plucking her eyebrows, because it was Stiles, and not some pair of tweezers, that brought out the best in her. He always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far I only have one more chapter planned. FYI. I think it's a good one, though. :)
> 
> Don't forget, I'll accept requests (with moderation)!


	3. Communists in the Funhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SQUICK WARNING: this chapter centers on sex during a menstrual cycle. Pretty exclusively. If that idea is absolutely repulsive to you, steer clear of this chapter. I shall sum it up, so you feel like you haven't missed anything: Lydia has her period. She and Stiles have sex. There's feelings after.
> 
> Okay, see you next chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the wonderful mind of Tori (currently spookystrex on Tumblr), so this chapter is devoted to her. With Communists in the funhouse, there's no time for Stalin! Ahh, I'm a horrible person.
> 
> Warnings in the chapter summary. I hope you do choose to read this chapter, because I like it a lot. Also because periods are natural, healthy things and accepting the many facets of womanhood is an important part of being a good person. *gets off soapbox*
> 
> Un-beta'd.

It came in the night, like a demon slithering through her window and up her sheets. When Lydia woke up the next morning, it had fully taken hold. There was nothing she could do.  
  
She was on her period.  
  
Alright, maybe that was a little overdramatic. The natural sloughing of her-- well, let's not get into gross detail-- was no monster from Hell, bent on creating chaos and war on Earth. But it fucking felt like it. God _damn_.

Lydia showered and put in a tampon before balling herself up into her favorite oversized pajamas. She thanked everything holy that today was a Saturday; her first day was always the most painful, and suffering through cramps _and_ Finstock's special breed of hyperactivity sounded absolutely dreadful.  
  
She had a bowl of Cheerios (made with chocolate milk, because she did what she wanted, thanks) for breakfast and curled up in bed to watch Cake Boss for the rest of the day.  
  
Stiles texted her around eleven-thirty, because he was a lazy bum on weekends. _Good morning, Heisenberg. :)_  
  
Lydia smiled, the expression quickly souring when her stomach throbbed unpleasantly. _Not as such, no. But hi._  
  
 _What's the matter? :(_  
  
 _The Communists have the funhouse._  
  
 _The… what?_  
  
Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes. _The devil went down to Georgia? Miss Scarlet in the den with the candlestick?_  
  
 _I swear I'm not being purposefully dumb, but what? Are you okay?_  
  
 _Other than my body rebelling against me because I decided not to get pregnant?_  
  
 _OOHHHHkay. Wait- Communists… oh my God. That's brilliant._  
  
Lydia smiled despite herself. _Thanks._

 _So, um, do you want me to do anything? Or get you anything? Is there a protocol for this?_  
  
Lydia stared at the message, surprised. Most boys ran away from the idea of menstruation. But, then again, since when had Stiles been most boys? _I could use some company. And fixings for s'mores._ Because s'mores sounded _amazing_ right about now.  
  
 _That I can do. What about, like, supply stuff?_  
  
The boxes in Lydia's bathroom were near full, but the idea of having Stiles troll through the feminine hygiene aisle had a comedic appeal to it. Lydia bit her lip, torn. Well, what was a little bit of innocent humiliation between lovers? _Actually, I could use some pads, if you're okay with that._  
  
The phone was silent for over ten minutes, and Lydia feared she might have scared him off. Hell, Jackson had practically disappeared from her life once a month, he was so freaked out. She should have known better. Lydia tugged her blankets higher and resumed watching Cake Boss. When her phone rang, Lydia answered it unthinkingly. "Hello?"  
  
"I'm facing a wall of pink, yellow, and green packages, and they're all the same," Stiles said lowly. "There's fat ones and skinny ones and things with… wings? And there's scented ones. Why would you get them scented? That's just counterproductive, if you think about it."  
  
Lydia listened to him ramble, a warm balloon rising in her chest. He was seriously buying her pads. He was the best boyfriend *ever.* "You're the best boyfriend ever," she stated. "Find the Kotex ones, the box is black. Regular, with wings. I want the thin kind."  
  
The phone rustled, like Stiles was moving. "Okay, how many? Two boxes? Three?" Lydia laughed, delighted.  
  
"One box is plenty. You're a king among men," she replied, wincing when her stomach twinged.  
  
Stiles snorted. "No, I'm just not an idiot. Guys who can't handle this stuff are wusses. See you in a few."  
  
"Love you," Lydia said softly. She never got tired of saying it.  
  
"Love you, too," Stiles replied, and Lydia could hear the smile in his voice. "Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
When he arrived, Lydia brought her comforter down to the living room with her. He had let himself in-- she gave him a key last week, after they completely violated the desk in her father's study-- and was pulling his purchases out on the counter. "Hi."  
  
He turned to her, expression turning sympathetic almost immediately. "Hey." He scooped her into a hug. "How you feeling?"  
  
"It's not like the flu. I get this once a month," she replied into the curve of his neck. "I'm okay."  
  
"Yeah, and I get thrown into a wall almost every week by one of our friendly neighborhood werewolves," he retorted. "Doesn't make it any less awful."  
  
Lydia hid her hands in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "Touché." Stiles handed her the box of pads, which were exactly the right thing. Lydia hugged them to her chest, feeling faintly guilty for making him buy her things she didn't need. "Thanks."  
  
"No problem," he said, balling up the empty plastic bags and putting them in the recycling. "So, what do you want to do?"  
  
"S'mores," she replied instantly, going for the package of marshmallows. "Other than that, my plans consist of taking the shape of a ball and getting you to play with my hair." Stiles' hands, which were sexy enough as is, were like heaven when they were buried in her hair. "Anything you want to do?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," Stiles said, ripping open the bag of graham crackers. "Caveat: we have to get pizza. Or Thai. Some sort of food substance that wasn't made for bonfires."  
  
"We can do that," Lydia agreed, putting together a s'more and setting the plate in the microwave. The marshmallow swelled up almost immediately, ballooning to four times its size.  
  
"Reminds me of Aunt Marge," Stiles said speculatively over Lydia's shoulder.  
  
Lydia snorted; that was accurate. She opened the microwave door and pulled out the confection, biting into it with a happy groan. She ate the s'more as fast as she could, licking drips of chocolate from her fingers. "That was perfect."  
  
Stiles moved towards her, eyes dark. "You have," he said vaguely, raising his hand to her mouth. "Let me." He swiped at the corner of her mouth with his thumb and raised the digit to his lips. Lydia tracked the movement, feeling her already swollen center throb. The next second, they were on each other. Stiles licked into her mouth greedily, suckling at the spot he'd just wiped. Lydia moaned, pushing into him with her hips. His hands grabbed her ass, pulling her up against his crotch, which was already beginning to harden.  
  
Lydia broke away with a groan. "We can't," she whispered against his lips, hating biology. "I can't."  
  
"Who says?" Stiles asked, searching her eyes with his own. "Is there a rule in some magic rulebook that says we can't?"  
  
Lydia inhaled sharply. She hadn't considered that. "But it's gross."  
  
"It's part of who you are," Stiles argued, sliding his hands up to cup her arms.  
  
"And messy," Lydia pointed out, blushing. God, this was embarrassing. "And it's… it's really not pleasant, Stiles."  
  
Stiles bit his lip. "If you're creating excuses because you don't want to, I will respect your decision," he said carefully. "That said, I don't mind if you don't. Actually, I've done some research, and--"  
  
"Why am I not surprised?" Lydia sighed, rolling her eyes as she smiled. "You? Research?"  
  
Stiles flicked her on the nose. "Is that a yes?"  
  
"That's a 'Tell me what to do, El Capitan,'" Lydia replied, nodding. Fuck, it really said something about her life that she had just agreed to have sex on her period, and it wasn't in the top five weirdest things she'd ever done. Fuck the supernatural.  
  
They wound up in the shower, because Lydia had refused to compromise her sheets in the name of Stiles' libido. She took a moment, when he wasn't looking, to clean herself up as quickly as possible. Sure, she'd only taken a shower a few hours ago, but she wasn't leaving this sort of thing up to chance. Stiles crowded Lydia up against the wall and leaned down to kiss her. Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing herself to focus on the movements of his tongue and not the slowly dropping strokes of his fingers.  
  
She couldn't ignore them, however, when they parted her lips. "Fuck," Stiles whispered. "You're all puffy and hot. Jesus."  
  
It took Lydia a moment to realize that that was supposed to be a good thing, and in that time Stiles had pushed one finger into her gently.  
  
"Shit," she gasped. She must have been really sensitive, because that one finger felt incredible, curling inside her gently. "Okay. Wow."  
  
Stiles added another finger, thrusting them slowly. "I don't know about you," he said, resting his forehead against hers, "but this feels kind of amazing."  
  
Lydia hummed agreement. "Want you inside me now."  
  
Stiles curled his fingers hard, drawing a high-pitched moan from Lydia. "Okay." He pulled his fingers out, streaked with blood (Lydia wasn't sure if that was disgusting or hot) and tore open a condom, rolling it onto himself with a hiss. He curled his hands under Lydia's ass. "I promise not to fall this time."  
  
Lydia laughed, curling her legs around his hips as he lifted her. Since both of his hands were occupied, she reached underneath herself and lined his cock up at her entrance. "You're sure?"  
  
Stiles smiled at her dopily. "Definitely."  
  
Lydia sank down, exhaling as he filled her. Just that simple motion sent tendrils of pleasure shooting down her spine. Stiles whimpered, dropping his head to her shoulder.  
  
"You're so fucking hot inside," he murmured. "Hotter than normal. S'awesome."  
  
Lydia kissed his cheek, growing impatient when he stayed still. "Movement is awesome, too," she reminded him playfully. Stiles dragged out of her and shoved back in, and _wow_. Heat swirled through her, slow and drug-like. As Stiles built up a rhythm, powerful and deep, Lydia felt her nerves work on overdrive. Every sensation was _more_ , more raw and liquid and stimulating. "Fuck, that's good."  
  
"You're telling me," Stiles ground out. "Can't get enough of you like this. I'm close."  
  
The words sent shockwaves through Lydia's body, and she dropped one hand to her clit. It took less than thirty seconds for her to fall apart, whining Stiles' name as she came. Stiles followed a few thrusts later, breathing Lydia's name like a prayer. Slowly, carefully, Lydia unwound her legs and Stiles dropped her to her feet. Stiles pulled off the condom and tied it, dropping it into the trashcan just outside the shower curtain. Lydia watched blood circle the drain, feeling even more swollen, now, but satisfied in a way that she hadn't expected. Her cramps were gone and her head felt clearer than it had all day.  
  
"I think sex is the miracle cure of menstrual problems," she informed Stiles. He chuckled and hugged her under the spray of the shower, kissing her forehead.  
  
"That may be the best thing I've heard in a while."  
  
"It doesn't gross you out?" Lydia asked him, pulling back. "Like, not at all? Seriously?"  
  
Stiles frowned, confused. "Should it?"  
  
"I've been dealing with periods for five years, and I'm still kind of grossed out," she confessed, shrugging. "Maybe it's because it accompanied by a lot of pain and hormone fluctuations, usually, but yeah."  
  
Stiles turned off the shower and fished the towels off their hooks on the wall, giving himself a moment to think. "I think it's something guys don't know about. It scares a lot of us but, c'mon, we've taken down Alpha werewolves and a snake-man controlled by an insane high school student. This is nowhere near that awful."  
  
"I suppose you're right," Lydia sighed, toweling herself off. "See you downstairs in a few?"  
  
Stiles squinted at her, failing to pick up on the hint. "Why-- oh. Right." He blushed, backing hurriedly out of the bathroom and jarring his thigh into the doorknob. "Fuck! Ow. Right. See you-- shit, that hurt-- see you downstairs."  
  
Lydia listened to Stiles clamber to her bedroom for clothes, waiting until the footsteps faded to start panicking. What had she just done? Stiles was just amusing her, right? Because how gross _was_ that? And she was used to it! He had to have been disgusted, right? And he was just hiding it?  
  
But, if that was the case, why had he brought up the idea of sex at all? It _was_ his idea, after all. Was he just that horny? What possible reason could Stiles have had for deciding to have sex with Lydia on her period?  
  
Lydia groaned into the empty bathroom. This wasn't helping anything. She put in a tampon and got dressed before trudging down the stairs.  
  
Stiles was in the kitchen, stirring a mug of something hot with a spoon. He looked contemplative. "Do we need to talk about this?"  
  
Lydia reached for the already prepared mug on the island and took a sip. Mm, hot chocolate. "Talk about what?" she asked innocently.  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes, putting down his drink. "That's a yes in disguise. I know you too well for you to get away with this stuff, you know that."  
  
Lydia bit her lip and crossed her arms, feeling tiny in the massive sweatshirt. "Was this just another kink for you?" And there it was, the million dollar question. Was their love life still about checking things off a list, or was it more now? Was Stiles still using Lydia to fulfill life goals? Her stomach turned at the thought.  
  
"Lydia," Stiles started, brows drawing together, "you can't… do you really think that?"  
  
Lydia shrugged, staring resolutely at the layer of foam on top of her hot chocolate.  
  
"Jesus," Stiles sighed. "Lydia, no. This isn't about some dumb fucking list. Or a dumb Fucking List, because both are applicable, here." Lydia's lips turned up, drawing a desperate smile from Stiles. "I love you. That's what this is about. This is about you and me and learning about each other as people. You said it yourself, Lyds: this is one quarter of your life. You will be like this one week out of every month for the foreseeable future. Am I just supposed to ignore that? You love me 'every day of the week,' remember? Well, I love you every week of the month. Even the ones where the sharks have taken the dock, okay?"  
  
"So this is because you don't care," Lydia clarified.  
  
"No, God." Stiles ran his hands through his hair, and Lydia felt stupid even though she didn't know why. "I care too much. Isn't that, like, my tragic flaw? I always care too much. But that's besides the point. You're amazing, okay? Even when you're purposefully being obtuse, like right now, you're still the best thing I've got going on. I'm not going to abandon you. Not now, not ever. When you feel good, I want to be there to watch you shine. When you feel crappy, I want to make it better. And when biology's being a fuck, I want to fuck biology. Kind of literally."  
  
Lydia laughed outright, moving to curl up against Stiles' chest. "You're almost poetic, you know that?"  
  
"'Almost' being the operative word," Stiles joked, resting his arms loosely around Lydia's waist. "So are we okay?"  
  
Lydia nodded, feeling swollen and bloated and perfectly happy. Then, a thought came to her, and she couldn't resist saying it. "But also because the sex was great, right?"  
  
Stiles laughed, loud and expansive. Lydia grinned into his t-shirt. "Yeah," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Also because the sex was great. Hey, speaking of, what do you say you and me make use of these hard, very cleanable surfaces in about, oh, say ten minutes?"  
  
And, okay, maybe it was Lydia who had the new kink, because u _hell yes_.  
  
Oh, who was she kidding? It was no new kink. Lydia only had one kink: Stiles. Stiles in any and every way she could have him. And it beat any fucking list (or Fucking List) in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay you made it! That wasn't so bad, huh?
> 
> My open call for requests is still [tentatively] open! I got four requests last chapter, which is awesome and I'll be writing those because you guys are brilliant people with filthy minds and I love it. That said, this semester is beginning to draw to a close, meaning my workload is heavier than ever before. These snapshots might take more time. Maybe. We'll see :)


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